


sea bound, and aimless at best

by laricina



Series: the ocean is holding all the kings [1]
Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 02:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laricina/pseuds/laricina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slightly bewildered Blackbeard finds himself aboard the Flying Dutchmen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sea bound, and aimless at best

**Author's Note:**

> Set post - _On Stranger Tides_ , almost directly after the end of the film. Can be stand-alone, but sets the scene for the next part in the series.
> 
> Written and posted elsewhere in 2011; posting here for archival purposes.

“Say, Gibbs,” Jack mused, more cheerful than he had been in days with the discovery of his beloved ship, “Suppose our favorite eunuch will recognize ol’ Blackbeard?”

With a laugh, Gibbs kicked the sand under his feet and turned to face his captain. “What do _you_ think, Jack?”

“What _I_ think is that the boy was ne’er a proper pirate,” Jack mumbled, “’S a crime when you consider his current position, savvy? Though I suspect that is what kept him alive.”

“Well,” Gibbs drawled, “until it didn’t.”

“True enough.”

“Are you concerned?” The former first mate asked knowingly.

“’Course not!” Jack insisted. “Stubborn ol’ git always insisted he could take care o’ ‘imself, and I’m willing to bet my hat that ol’ Bootstrap’s driving ‘im up the wall.”

“Still,” Gibbs continued, pointedly shaking the sack full of bottles, “Curious that we didn’t see Will around during Blackbeard’s recent massacre, don’t you think?”

“Can’t say I thought about it too much,” Jack lied.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

~

There were little means for quantifying time aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ , which Will quickly found suited him just fine. Time held almost no value there, save for the desire to see his ten years pass. His years as a blacksmith had taught him many things, not the least of which was the virtue of patience and quiet introspection. As the days passed mostly by the moving of the tides, he found he was grateful for this. He wished sometimes that his father would learn the value of quiet introspection; Bootstrap was trying just a little too hard to make up for lost time.

Despite the ambiguity, Will was certain a considerable amount of time had passed between becoming the captain and setting free all the souls who had been neglected or abused by Davy Jones. The task had been exhausting in all aspects; he had come face-to-face with those who were angry or bitter, those who were relieved to finally be set free, and those who were simply… sad. These sailors and pirates were mostly no-names who had desired to live their lives and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, perhaps crossed the wrong person in the process of living.

He found with no small amount of dismay that he was, in fact, quite choosey of those who would remain on the _Dutchman’s_ crew (sometimes, he heard Jack in his head – _“No good pirate is that choosey, mate”_ ). There was himself, Bootstrap, a few stragglers from the previous crew who couldn’t quite bear to tear themselves away from the ship, and precious few others. He had no interest in tying anyone else to a fate he himself despised, was picky of his company, and preferred to weigh down the _Dutchman_ with considerably less baggage and liability than Davy Jones. Though plenty of things had changed about Will Turner since he had sprung one infamous pirate from a jail cell what seemed like a lifetime ago, his desire for a quiet life was not one of them.

Governor Weatherby and James Norrington had been two notable souls among the thousands that had meant anything to Will. Sometimes, he appreciated the occasional reminder of a previous life. Most of the time, he was content enough to shroud himself in the legend of the ship, sympathizing with the dead, treating them with kindness, but discouraging inane chit-chat.

One pirate had been killed on his ship during a raid from the Black Pearl. Will had nearly laughed himself sick to learn Jack had lost the ship to Barbossa _again_ , though it had left him wondering what had come of his not-quite-friend, not-quite-enemy.

Except for those, months passed without incident, retrieving the dead, humoring his father, perhaps humoring himself, dreaming of Elizabeth and wondering what she was up to on land. He found himself constantly torn between trying to feel her in his dreams and trying to forget her entirely except for one day – he was never quite sure which was more painful.

Life (well, or not) became interesting again when, for what Will imagined had to add up to a few weeks at least, he was permanently stuck on the other side. This perplexed him greatly; the Captain’s intuition he found with the _Dutchman_ knew when there were souls to be ferried; he simply couldn’t get there. His position also usually allowed a certain level of communication with Calypso, yet he found this communication cut off. Bootstrap suggested someone had pissed the goddess off somehow; Will didn’t doubt it, even if he was still confused.

He would not get his answers until, on the first day in which he seemed able to cross over again, the _Dutchman_ came upon a most ridiculous, over-the-top dingy carrying one Edward “Blackbeard” Teach, whom Will did not recognize, but Bootstrap immediately did.

\--

If not for the battles that had led to their current situation and the subdued yet deep pain he recognized in Will’s eyes, Bootstrap thought he would be rather excited and filled with fantasies of spending years at sea with his son. Aside from his ever-present desire to please the child he had wronged, it took a great deal to rile up the generally calm old bloke. He was content to sail the seas, play dice, and occasionally act as the comic relief of the ship, whether it was desired or not.

Will knew these facts very well, and thus he was immediately on guard one foggy morning when his father glanced over the side of the ship to squint at one in the distance, took in the image of Blackbeard sailing towards the _Dutchman_ , and promptly choked out his drink though his nose.

“An old friends of yours?” Will prompted quietly, inwardly torn between relief at resuming his duties and resentment at having his day disturbed. It wasn’t as though this duty ever got easier.

“Don’t be a fool, boy,” Bootstrap bit out, barely. “That is _Blackbeard_.”

Will’s brow furrowed before he made the connection. “ _The_ Blackbeard? Edward Teach?”

“Blazes,” Bootstrap continued in response, “I’m not quite certain I want to hear the story of what killed him.”

Will moved to steer the ship in the direction of the moving dingy. “You think he will try to cause trouble?”

“I would bet on it.”

In his own part, Blackbeard, still bewildered at Jack’s trickery and the whirlwind cycle of events, was almost looking forward to letting his frustration loose on the legendary Davy Jones, which only added to his bewilderment when, glancing up the side of the _Dutchman_ in reluctant admiration, he spotted Will Turner.

Blackbeard squinted, then blinked, and then squinted again. “You don’t look like Davy Jones, boy.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Will bit out dryly, already in the process of letting down a rope to allow Blackbeard to board the ship. “My name is William Turner.”

“You don’t even look like a _pirate_ ,” Blackbeard elaborated.

“Two compliments in a row from a complete stranger and infamous pirate, it must be my lucky day.” (Will heard Jack in his head again – _“I wish you would have let me give you a tattoo and bead your hair, whelp. The captain of the Dutchman’s gotta look the part, savvy?”_ )

“Of all the things I’d thought I would see in my day,” Bootstrap mumbled, “First Davy Jones is killed, and now _you_?”

By this time, Blackbeard had ascended the ship, and was strutting around as if he owned it, a tad suspicious that the clean but boding ship actually _was_ the _Flying Dutchman_. Bootstrap was staring at him unbelievably, sipping again from his drink, and Will was glaring at this pirate who, while infamous, was still _dead_ and walking about his ship.

“I’d be placed in a bewilderment once again,” Blackbeard dead-panned. “Seems those rumors ‘bout Davy Jones and Calypso’s release were true after all.”

“Must be true that you never came out of your cabin,” Bootstrap pointed out unnecessarily, “Otherwise it wouldn’t have taken your death for you to know that.”

“On the contrary, if I had stayed in my cabin, I may still be alive.” Blackbeard emphasized his point with heavy feet as he continued to survey the ship.

“I don’t suppose I’m going to be able to lull you into delivering your soul with kind words,” Will sighed, mostly to himself.

“What are you talking about, boy?” Blackbeard laughed as he caressed the helm.

“Get your hands _off of my ship_ ,” Will growled uncharacteristically, the sea rocking under them with his anger.

Startled at the reaction, Blackbeard immediately removed his hands from the helm. 

Unable to contain his curiosity, Bootstrap asked, “What in the blazes happened to you?”

“Who are you?”

“Bill Turner. Call me Bootstrap.”

“Well, I wish I knew,” Blackbeard answered bitterly. “One minute, I am standing at the Fountain of Youth, convincing my daughter to save her old man’s life, drinking from the chalice with the mermaid’s tear. The next minute, I find out the bloody _chalices were switched_.”

“Fountain of Youth?” Will asked incredulously. “That exists? Why am I surprised?”

“The chalices were _switched_?” Bootstrap, who was familiar with both the legend of the Fountain and of the ritual necessary for gaining eternal life, was more surprised at Blackbeard’s demise than anything else. He glanced at Will and quickly explained, “There’s a ritual – you need to find the Fountain, of course, but you also need two silver chalices, a mermaid’s tear, and someone to sacrifice – gaining life comes with a price, you know.”

Then he turned back to Blackbeard. “You are telling us that you and your crew managed to track down the chalices, obtain a mermaid’s tear, and find the Fountain of Youth, and you didn’t notice when someone switched the chalices on you?”

The flash in Blackbeard’s eyes was the confirmation of the events; he didn’t respond to Bootstrap’s question.

“And which one of your crew members was brave enough to pull off that?”

“Not a crew member,” Blackbeard corrected, perhaps too quickly. “Bloody Jack Sparrow.”

“ _Captain_ ,” Will corrected automatically, an old reflex barely remembered, and then he realized what he had said. “Wait – Jack Sparrow? Captain of the Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow?”

“No one’s captain of that ship anymore, boy,” Blackbeard hissed proudly, “I sank it.”

“You…” Will was at a loss for words. “You…”

“You _sank_ the _Black Pearl_?” Bootstrap finished his question, managing to express the shock that Will felt and anger on his own part.

“To be precise,” Blackbeard continued proudly, “I sank it, shrank it and shoved it in a bottle, but yes.”

“You-” Bootstrap started, moving towards Blackbeard to strike him. Will quickly rammed his elbow into his father’s chest to stop him. “Ow! Will-”

More harshly than intended, Will pointed out, “I’m surprised that killing you via a switched chalice is all Jack did to you.”

Taking it upon himself to look indignant, Blackbeard exclaimed, “That’s trickery!”

Will snorted, cocking an eyebrow. “For Jack? That’s standard issue.”

Bootstrap laughed out loud at this as Blackbeard studied Will intensely for a few moments. “There was a man with Sparrow – muttered something about not seeing this ship around as I was busy making sure my crew members, say, remembered who I am. Where _were_ you?”

“I don’t see how I owe any of these answers to you.”

“No one seems to think they owe me anything lately.”

“This surprises you?” Will was already tired of this guest. “You’re a pirate.”

“That’s my point, boy,” he continued, past Will’s growls that he was most certainly no longer a boy, “Some of us are just better at being pirates than others. There’s no respect for that any more. What a shame.”

Almost amused, Will stated, “I dare say that if the circumstances of your meeting had been different, Jack may have respected you, you know. Though he would never admit it.”

“You think that means anything to me?”

Will shrugged. “I’m not so sure I care whether it does or not.”

“Well, you tell him that when you see him, aye? See what he thinks about it.”

“I will. Now if you don’t mind, I really think we should get down to business-”

“Why the rush?”

“There are limits, you know.”

“I have no desire to just let my soul be ferried off.”

“I guessed; your death came as a result of your quest to cheat it. Seeing as your death is not reversible, I’m sure it would be to your advantage to come to terms with it.”

Blackbeard’s gaze bore into Will’s knowingly. “I suppose you want me to believe you have come to terms with yours, then?”

Will sighed, closing his eyes and clenching his fist before regaining composure. “Your bitterness will get you nowhere, I can guarantee you that much.”

“Don’t think for a minute of asking to join the crew,” Bootstrap growled, offended on Will’s behalf at Blackbeard’s intrusive questioning. Will placed a hand on his father’s arm both in warning and reassurance.

Blackbeard’s answering laugh was sharp. “I’ve no interest in joining Captain Turner’s crew. What I want is an audience with Calypso.”

The sea rolled under the _Flying Dutchman_ for a good few minutes in response. Bootstrap was skeptical. “Can you do that?”

Will’s eyes flashed. “Calypso’s not the sort to meet with pirates or sailors at their beck and call – normally. But it seems she has a bone to pick with you, as it were.”

Blackbeard sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

Before Bootstrap could question, Will elaborated with disgust, “Calypso does not take kindly on Pirate Lords who _abandon their posts_ as members of the Brethren Court.”

“The Pirate Lords bound her to begin with!” Blackbeard tried to defend.

“She’s had her revenge,” Will explained, “Besides, it’s more the lack of responsibility that bothers her.”

There was a beat of silence between them all before Will pressed, “You just _left_?”

“Circumstances, Captain Turner. Circumstances.” Then, he threw Will’s logic back in his face. “Are you surprised? I’m a pirate.”

“He’s got a point.” Bootstrap mumbled, before pondering, “Suppose the combined quest for the Fountain of Youth and this man’s freedom upset the balance enough to affect us, Will?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, “It’s possible.”

“There’s a way to find out, of course,” Blackbeard grinned, “Give me an audience.”

“The chance to negotiate your after-worldly fate with Calypso goes through me. In most cases if I judge the request to be ill-advised, dangerous, or purely selfish then I will deny it. Every fiber of my being itches to have you simply ferried on like the rest, but I will offer you one condition.”

“I don’t bargain.”

“It is either that, or accept this as the last day of your consciousness. Your choice, Edward Teach.”

Blackbeard tapped his foot impatiently and glared at Will in an attempt to intimidate him. Not only did he fail in his attempts, but he felt the sea roll under them again. He sighed. “Name your terms.”

“You will tell me exactly how you managed to shrink down entire ships and store them in bottles, and you will tell me how to reverse the effect.”

“What’s it to you, Captain?”

“That is neither here nor there. You will tell me how; reasons do not matter.”

“I hate giving up my secrets,” Blackbeard growled, “but I suppose it matters little now. The process is rather simple. My sword is infused with magic and enchantments. The sword allowed me to directly control the ship. As soon as I had conquered another ship with the _Revenge_ , the power of control extended to those ships – mostly. The _Pearl_ put up a good fight, she did, resisted me the whole way – resisted Barbossa too, I reckon. If you wish to restore those ships to their proper size, you’ll need that sword.”

He sniffed. “It’s quite the shame, really. I must have had twenty ships in that collection.”

After a quick glance at Blackbeard’s person and in his dingy, Will asked, “Where is that sword?”

“I’d assume both my sword and my ship are with Barbossa, that bloody, useless, son of a-”

“ _Barbossa_?” Will choked out. “Wonderful. A sea full of pirates and I can’t seem to get away from the lot of you.”

Shocked, Blackbeard pressed, “How do you know Barbossa?”

“That isn’t any of your business,” Will dismissed as the skies above them darkened and the wind swept through the sails. “Nor do we have the time for the story, apparently. Calypso is calling; she’ll deal with you.”

“Really you should thank me,” Blackbeard stated cheekily, “I’m getting you off the hook, Captain Turner.”

Will huffed. “I wouldn’t say that. Besides, this is my job.”

“You shouldn’t worry about such things, mate. I didn’t.”

Raising an eyebrow, Will inquired, “And what would you have done, once you had gained immortality? Holed yourself up in your cabin eating until the end of time? What will you ask Calypso for?”

Blackbeard laughed. “As you have said yourself, Captain Turner, that is hardly any of your business.” Water started to rush around him. “Ta, mateys.”

\--

The sea was left calm in the wake of Calypso pulling Blackbeard into her world of spirits. Will stood at the helm of the _Dutchman_ as the ship barely swayed, thoughtfully gazing upon the horizon.

“Shall I prep us for transitioning?” Bootstrap asked, ready to direct the crew. Will usually preferred not to linger in any one place.

“No,” the captain instructed, and Bootstrap was only partially surprised. “We have business here.”

“Could be weeks before we run into Jack or Barbossa,” Bootstrap pointed out knowingly.

“Then I suppose it’s convenient that time is only restricting to the living.”

~

Will supposes that the technical term of _undead_ is chillingly proper for his current state of being. Although there were inherent freedoms that came with captaining the _Dutchman_ , he would never consider himself truly free.

Aside from performing his duties, he is free to do what he wishes, free to go wherever he desires, as long as it is on the sea. He knows he is in less control than he is supposed to believe; Calypso surveys his every move. The _Dutchman_ whispers to him of her thoughts sometimes, but only in brief snippets – just enough to give him a window into her mind. He has slowly started to forget the feel of sand between his toes, and there is a dulled yet constant ache in his soul (in lieu of the heart he no longer possesses).

Will’s not sure he has ever felt truly in control of his life. His earliest years, though not unhappy, were spent at his parent’s discretion, and since then his life has consisted of running from one thing or another, living for Master Brown, living up to expectations. He very briefly felt in control of his decisions when sailing on a commandeered ship with Jack Sparrow on a boyish quest to save the woman he loves. He very briefly felt in control of his life in the months following the beginning of his relationship with Elizabeth. Both seemed like a lifetime ago now.

He had regrets, but all he had wanted for so long was to be with Elizabeth. His own actions helped bring them together. His own stubbornness, his rash actions to gain back control, probably lead to his death, until Jack had intervened.

Somewhere he thinks that he would not have regretted what he had done, if he had died – someone, presumably Jack, would have stabbed the heart, thus his father still would have been freed, and he’d been given time with Elizabeth.

This, though, this not-quite life, was as much of a gift as it was a curse. The time was borrowed, but it had given Elizabeth hope, the both of them more time, and him a chance to know his father.

Will supposed someone else may have held more bitterness toward the one who had done this to him, but Will recognized Jack’s actions for the personal sacrifice that they were. Despite their shortcomings, they’d remained friends in the most important sense, and Will felt the need to repay Jack somehow. Releasing the souls Davy Jones had abused had only been one loose end after that battle; this was another.

Helping to restore the _Pearl_ would certainly even their debt in his eyes.

At any rate, unlike Blackbeard, Will likes to fill his time somehow.

Illusions of control aren’t always troublesome.

~

Jack sees the flash of green on the horizon out of the corner of his eye. A shiver runs through him at the sight.

He remembers blood and metal, his hand around one devoid of life and a limp form in pouring rain and isn’t sure if the twinge he feels in his gut is from relief or regret.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that I may be taking some liberties with this, as strictly speaking Blackbeard did not die at sea. However, considering the supernatural aura of the Fountain, the nature of his death, and his identity, I assumed it wouldn’t be too far out of line.


End file.
